


*record scratch*

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home, Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fight Scene, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, POV First Person, mid-action, minor injury, the second half of those chars are mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: First thing’s first—introductions.I’m Michelle. My friends call me MJ, of which there are few.I’m the one hogtied to the I-beam that’s about to splash into the Hudson.





	*record scratch*

**Author's Note:**

> spidey owns me the most out of all my fandoms bc i have NEVER written first person fic (nor wanted to) and that's all you need to know

So.

I’m here.

You probably don’t know _why_ I’m here, but that’s cool, I’ll tell you in a sec.

First thing’s first—introductions.

(Hate giving ‘em, but necessary.)

I’m Michelle. My friends call me MJ, of which there are few.

I’m the one hogtied to the I-beam that’s about to splash into the Hudson.

Yeah, _that_ one—curly hair, tall, freakin’ exhausted from the _thought_ of having to dry out the books I have in my bag after all this.

(Spoiler alert: did not have to. _#SpideySquadPerks_ )

Did you know the Hudson doesn’t actually smell that bad? Because it doesn’t. If they tell you it does, they’re talking about the East River.

Trust me, I got pretty _up close_ and personal with ol’ H. Riv.

(Also, they put in oysters and those babies cleaned out a lot of the gunk—yay for shellfish! Definitely never eating one!)

 _Ahem_.

So that’s me.

The jacked dude ramming through cars on the GW is Rhino.

He’s new, at this point.

Mean. Super strong. Has actual horns.

In case you need a cheat sheet, he’s the one who tossed me.

(It’s a supervillain thing.)

(Also, he needs like, ten packs of mints, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.)

The big guy with the old school hat and boss-ass hair is Ned Leeds, the coolest nerd-hacker you will ever know, with the nicest parents* you will ever meet.

(*They WILL cook you food for a week if you say you lost two pounds, so. do. not. joke.)

That gigantor stun gun in his hands is modified to take out the Hulk, and worth more than my parents’ mortgage.

In three seconds, someone’s gonna bump into him, and he’s going to drop it, and Mr. Rhino is gonna charge by him and almost—as we say— _dust it_.

The blonde in the stolen—“borrowed”—black Maserati is Betty, Ned’s girlfriend.

She’s on our school’s press team, and _no_ , she doesn’t have her license.

The screaming oldish dude beside her is Happy.

(Yes, we know he doesn’t look very happy.)

He probably should’ve been driving.

He’s a pretty good driver/pilot/head of security, and he’s got good ideas if you don’t mess with him too much.

Deserves a pay raise for all this, methinks.

We’ll skip all the randos on the bridge, ‘cause like, I don’t actually know who they are. 

(But you should know: there’s maybe, I dunno, a hundred-fifty? Two hundred? People? Running away. From said bridge.

Fun.)

And that dude there? In the spandex and nanotech?

The noisy one with the tiny voice and webs shooting out of his wrists?

That’s Peter Parker—AKA, Spider-Man.

And right here, I didn’t know yet—and maybe I should’ve, with all the stupid butterflies I had to deal with—but, well.

He’s the love of my life.

But that’s _way_ later.

So let’s talk now.

* * *

The unfortunate reality of life, is just that.

It’s life.

It’s real.

And in real life, _I hate heights_.

I also really like small bookstores.

Preferably ones where I can get discounts because I’ve been going all my sixteen years of life.

Which is where I was at when Angry Horns decided to take hostages.

Or something like that.

I think the correct term is “bait”, but there’s no way he would listen to me when I’m already halfway to having my bones crushed via water splatting.

Anyway.

It was a chill day, hanging out with my friends, being chaperoned by Happy because, apparently, he’s more of a dad than any of our dads.

Made Peter’s attempts at holding my hand like, _way_ more awkward than usual, which was already _preeetty_ awkward.

(And, _okay_ , I was not helping the situation with my lack of game, but sue me for being extra awkward around my _Slightly More Than A Crush’s Soon-to-be Step-Uncle._ )

It would’ve probably ended up with the five of us back at the Parker residence—because it usually does—but supervillainy had other plans.

Maybe it was Rhino’s first weekend off work and he needed to let out some steam? Who knows.

All _we_ knew was one second we were in a competition to find the worst romance novel covers, and the next we were split up four ways and I was suddenly very interested in telling my parents I loved them.

And they say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re _this close_ to death, but they never talk about how sad of a movie clip that can look like when you have a relatively short lifespan.

Mine was full of me reading.

Not sucky, but realizing my favorite parts _weren’t_ the ones with me alone with a book was…

I guess, y’know, I guess you could say I liked having friends.

I liked group hugs and friend dates to school dances.

I liked knowing they missed me when I disappeared.

I liked bonding with weirdos on a weird school trip.

I liked watching my friends get better at life.

I liked—uh— _screw it_ —I liked loving a boy who loved me back.

Even if we didn’t say it yet.

And I guess, just—having myself be alone for so long, and for so much of my _About To Die_ film…

Kinda lame, now.

Lotsa regrets.

And really not how I wanted to go.

But hey, somewhere between Rhino grabbing me and two other people from the bookstore, charging through traffic to a construction site, hackjob “tying” us to I-beams using steel poles, charging _back_ around and up past Harlem, tossing my two short-lived hostage compatriots as ammo against Spider-Man— _lucky hipsters_ —and finally tossing me off the George Washington Bridge, I figure it isn’t all bad.

At least I had those moments to begin with, y’know?

Yay for positivity, s/o to the boys and May for being good influences, _yatta-yatta_.

And that, my dude, is where we find ourselves.

Or where _I_ found myself, anyway.

And hey, I can’t tell you where the hell Betty and Happy got the Maserati (threatening was definitely involved), or how Ned got the taser (I’m pretty sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. had something to do with it), but I can tell you how I knew the precise second Spider-Man showed up.

Because I heard him.

And he sounded like…

You know those videos of animals crying over their family?

Like _Lion King_ but only roaring?

Very cinematic.

Hurt a little, in my chest, in the mango organ.

And, again, Spiky decided the best way to ditch our resident superhero was to, like, _throw_ two of his “hostages” at him—giant steel beams attached and all.

Pretty sure he would’ve thrown _me_ , too, ‘cept he actually decided to pay attention and like, _count_. And he realized he needed at least one chump to trap Spidey-Boi and, IDK, kill him, or something.

(Why is it always killing, anyway? As if kerplatting one superhero ever stopped more from showing up. Psh.)

So.

I’m about to splat into the Hudson.

 _Mythbusters_ says I’ll definitely break something—if not everything—from this height. With this extra weight attached to me, I’m banking—pun intended—on making it to the bottom in, hmm, _very fast_.

And, as I’ve spoiled for you, because I don’t like causing unnecessary trauma—except for Petey-boy, but only sometimes—I didn’t have to dry out my books.

‘Cause see, I didn’t hit the Hudson.

(Almost hit a boat that was passing under me, though.)

There was some shouting—I guess, I dunno—at this point—I’m still scared of heights, see, and screaming when it’s high up is _very_ on brand for me (yes, Peter will not let me live this down), so that’s what I was doing.

Ned swears what happened was he managed to _Super Bowl-Winning Throw_ the stun gun up to Peter as he swung over—which I can believe because of the sheer amount of backpack throwing he did over summer break—and then Peter like, landed on RhiNOceros, slammed it into the dude’s chest, backflipped—as he does—and shot the series of webs that caught me, but I honestly could not care less, because I _wasn’t dead._

(...Well, maybe a little bit. I could care a little bit. Only because of the Ned thing. And because Happy gave him a high-five after, which is like, the only proof you need.)

What I _remember_ is:

Screaming.

A lot of screaming.

Coming from _moi_.

Rushing wind, the feeling of sharp metal digging into my arms and back, cars _screeching_.

The sound of metal being crushed by metal.

A _creak_ from the bridge.

More screaming, from below me, and—

The _worst recoil_ I’ve ever felt in my life.

I will take Betty’s driving any day to it, hands down, cross my heart, pinky swear.

I’m sure there are people out there who think like, people with fluffy hair get extra cushioning for these things, but when it’s _metal_ and _over 70 mp/h_ , I don’t think cushioning matters much.

Did I get a concussion? 

Why yes, yes I did. 

Thank you for asking. 

Peter forgot to, but he gets away with it ‘cause he asked me _not to do that again, please—at least until our first anniversary_.

(I told him that was a tough call, ‘cause 1) we weren’t technically together, and _2) who do you think I am? Professor X? I don’t have any telepathy, you dork—I can’t just summon someone to kidnap me and simulate a life or death situation._ )

(For the record, he said: “This is why I love you.”)

Anyway, concussion.

Yes.

I don’t remember this part.

Because.

Concussion.

Happy says I just looked very confused for a while, didn’t say much, puked in the limo (sorry, Mrs. Potts-Stark), but was at least awake before we got to the hospital.

Sort of.

Like, 15% awake, which is good enough.

But hey! I’m alive.

We’re _all_ still alive, actually—a true, continuous Christmas miracle.

And it’s been a while, now—like eight years, give or take.

I’m still working on that Life Film thing.

Last time I almost died—there have been many times, obviously, because my husband is a superhero _and_ has the _worst_ luck—last time, it was pretty good.

Last time I saw May and Happy’s wedding.

And mine and Pete’s.

And Betty proposing to Ned (and it isn’t as cool as it sounds, he just managed to drop the ring, like, _in front of her_ ).

And a lot of time beating Flash at video games.

And a lot _more_ time doing Spidey Squad things and saving the world, one dumb joke at a time.

And Morgan _destroying_ Peter and Miles at every cheeseburger-eating competition in the U-S-of-A.

And yeah, I still have me, alone, reading.

But now they’re never ‘cause I was _lonely._

I got a lot more of the “good stuff”, as they say.

And it’s pretty great.

11/10 would recommend.

So get out there, got it?

Then come back and talk to me about your weird-ass life.

I’ll have the pause button ready.

See ya then.

**Author's Note:**

> <333 DONT SPOIL THE MOVIE KIDS
> 
> God bless yall, I'll be busy before tues so idk if ill have anything up but! had this lil plot bunny and worked on it during my free hours haha
> 
> advance thank you for comments and kudos, if you feel so inclined. you know where to find me if you wanna chat!


End file.
